


The Lantern-Maker

by Elleth



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1487371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/pseuds/Elleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spending a spring day with Elenwë reveals a surprising gift for Írissë.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lantern-Maker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IdleLeaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves/gifts).



> Anna, I hope pure fluff is something you've been hoping for, because that's what you are getting. ♥ Many thanks to Zeen and Sigridhr for their help and encouragement concerning the last-minute alterations.

When Írissë entered the garden, Elenwë was spinning under the lantern-hung cherry trees, head tilted back to the blue sky between the flowering branches, and her dress whipping high around her knees. A flurry of petals was falling onto her in the spring wind, and even the grass of the orchard was carpeted white. Elenwë seemed not to notice her as she danced beneath the trees, and Írissë would not have needed to stalk with a hunter's tread to approach unheeded, simply running up to her would have been just as sufficient to wrap her arms around Elenwë and spin her into a kiss. 

"Írë!" The sound came out in laughing protest more than not, and her lips met Írissë's with practiced, happy ease. They kissed until, by the door to the house further up the garden a windchime tinkled and they broke apart, racing away in opposite directions to avoid discovery. Only when Elenwë's mother had vanished through the garden gate and out of earshot around a bend in the path, Elenwë's clear voice sang out from between the trees on the other side of the garden,

"Írë, you will need to catch me for another kiss!" 

Írissë laughed in response, shook her hair back, and slipped from her shoes. If it was warm enough for the first leaves to unroll from their buds, it was warm enough to walk barefoot, she reasoned, and Laurelin meant well with them that day – not yet the stifling heat of summer, but a gentle warmth of the sort that always made her a little restless, itching to run much further than the confines of the hamlet just outside Tirion populated almost entirely by the branches of Elenwë's family, tak Elenwë's hand and tug her along, away from her apprenticeship and obligations and all the time spent in her workroom. She pushed the thought away.

"I would not need to catch you; you would come to me sooner or later either way! You like my kisses far more than you'd admit aloud! But what is life without a chase?" 

With those words out, Írissë darted toward the section of the garden where Elenwë's voice had sounded, but with a laugh and a flutter of gold, Elenwë flitted away. They wove between the trees like that for a while, with brushes and near-misses, a hand's width of hair between the other's shoulder, laughter that grew increasingly breathless, until Írissë stumbled over a root hidden in the long grass and found herself sprawling on her back and sucking in the sweet air. Above her dangled a white silk lantern in a silver frame.

Elenwë landed atop her, blocking the view, and the grin on her reddened, sweat-shining face spoke volumes. "What, the great huntress yields?" A coil of her golden hair had come loose from her careful updo in the speed of the chase, and Írissë wrapped a finger around it to tug her down.

"The great huntress may need some convincing – and some mollifying for the inevitable grass stains to explain to my mother."

Elenwë laughed her golden laugh against Írissë's lips, and it went like a shiver of heat through her. "I have a surprise for you later that ought to placate you – but I told you before, conducting a secret affair in silver and white is hardly going to pass unnoticed, even if your partner is." 

"As long as you keep your face straight and your mind closed when they come to question you," said Írissë. "It is not a secret that I am so often here, after all – the question is whether they believe you were innocently used as alibi – or are in fact my accomplice." 

"Accomplice?" Elenwë laughed again, the weight of her body shifted, and she stretched herself out half-atop Írissë's body, pillowing her head on Írissë's shoulder. Írissë pressed a kiss to the golden curls of hair tickling her chin. 

"Accomplice. Unless you think they would in fact consider you the perpetrator of such a shameful -" 

"- _shameless_ -" 

" - deed as to seduce a daughter of the House of Finwë." 

"Oh, everyone knows I am the very picture of innocence. It is not my fault Nerdanel refused me as a model for that allegory statue of hers – after all, no one could claim that she is particularly renowned for her wisdom and understanding of the minds and hearts of the people." 

Írissë chortled. "Careful. The next time you meet she will be able to tell that we have a secret just from the particular way you squirm in her presence. Or perhaps you ought to suggest that she make another statue." 

"And which should that be? Desire is in your name, that would render me unsuitable." 

"Mischief, then." Írissë squirmed to feel Elenwë's fingertips warm through the fabric of her dress, trailing upward over her ribs in circles, so light that the sensation barely deserved to be called a tickle, but it left Írissë breathless all over again. "Or perhaps licentiousness... that would us make a fine pair." She caught Elenwë's hand with her own to stay it. "But not now, not here – do you know when your mother will return? I would rather she did not catch us." 

Elenwë shook her head and relented, sitting up with a regretful look she tried to soften with a smile, and leaning against the bole of an apple tree. A handful of petals fluttered from above to settle on her hair like a crown, and Írissë smiled to see it. 

"You have petals in your hair," she said. 

"And so do you, Írë. Come inside, we'll comb them out, and you can have your surprise." 

Írissë's curiosity was kindled. She climbed to her feet and followed Elenwë, who was blushing a little, up the flight of white-chalked stairs into the house. 

Inside it was cool and still, and Laurelin's light through the western windows dappled the tree-shadows onto the walls and onto Elenwë's lanterns lining the windowsills, bookshelves, and her worktable. The workroom smelled of glue and paper dust.

"You have been very busy," Írissë said with a laugh to see a number of new additions to the lanterns Elenwë had created. 

"I have been experimenting," said Elenwë with a shuffle of her foot. "My aunt says I have mastered paper, fabric and ordinary glass lanterns well enough that I can move on to more complex materials. I want to try murrine patterns next – here, see, I have already drawn up designs, and I meant to ask your permission before I start."

Írissë sat and began leafing through the stack of papers on the table while Elenwë retrieved a comb and began to brush the petals from Írissë's hair. She could feel her eyes growing wider and wider the further the designs developed on the pages, from simple glass shapes of a woman's translucent form to ruminations on the best way to include facial features and fabric patterns in glass, but even so, the design sketches of a white dress and the dark hair left no doubt whom that design was intended to depict. 

"You mean to create _me_?" Írissë asked. 

"And then -- to light you up," said Elenwë, putting the comb away and resting her chin on Írissë's head. "So they can all see you as I do, with the Light of your House so bright I wonder sometimes how I have not been blinded yet." 

Coherency and misgivings about a too-intimate nature of the idea both fled. Írissë felt heat rising to her cheeks, twisted around, and kissed Elenwë.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Írë_ \- potential short form of Írissë, meaning "desire", hence also the pun in the text.
> 
>  _"So they can all see you as I do, with the Light of your House so bright I wonder sometimes how I have not been blinded yet."_ \- Tolkien describes the term _coacalina_ as "a metaphor for the soul (fëa) dwelling inside the body (hröa)". It seemed too fitting to pass up here.


End file.
